


Backseat drama

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Driving, F/M, Humor, Jonerys, Minor Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen, Oral Sex, Sex in a Car, Strangers to Lovers, jon the cab driver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: As a cab driver, Jon Snow is expected to get his passengers from A to B without fuss. But when he picks up married Daenerys again and again, he starts to like her. Perhaps she starts to like him too - a bit too much. A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	Backseat drama

..

Jon could see the argument before he could hear it. As he stopped in front of the bar, the couple didn’t hurry to his car but rather walked with slow steps, pausing every now and again to face each other, their arms gesturing about, their lips moving in soundless anger.

_ This is going to be fun, _ Jon thought, already regretting accepting the ride.

As the backdoor flung open, he caught the woman sneering: “-always behave like a fucking _ caveman._” She was a small thing, and Jon glanced into the rear-view mirror as he took in her looks; silver hair, a leopard minidress, black shiny boots. It was however her violet eyes which demanded his attention. They were brimming with anger, more so when the man didn’t enter on the other side of the car. Instead, he reached in and pushed her along as he claimed her spot behind the passenger seat.

“What’s that to you!” he groaned, his voice exasperated. “Since when did you become Miss Prim and Proper?”

Jon reached up to turn the mirror slightly, allowing him to take in more of the guy. He was tall, broad, and fuming; behind the wet, curly locks which fell around his face, he could see him turning red. From alcohol or anger, Jon couldn’t quite tell.

“First of all,” the woman said, pointing her finger at his chest, “it’s _ Mrs_, unfortunately, so you already suck at insulting me. Miss would be a welcome compliment!”

“What’s second?” the man demanded to know,

“Second, I did not _ become _ proper, I always have been.”

“Hah! That’s not what your brother tells me.”

“Because my brother is a douche - and so are _ you_!”

As the squabbling continued, Jon cleared his throat. “Good evening-”

“And third-” the woman started, not even noticing that Jon had spoken.

“Ride for Mr Drogo?”

“And third fucking _ what?_” the man asked.

“Going to Khaleestreet?”

“You are just angry-” she said.

Jon sighed: “Anyone? Mr Drogo? Anyone listening?”

“About what?” he urged.

“That you can only handle girls-”

“Oh yeah?”

“-and not a _ woman_!”

Jon switched on the radio. As Mambo No 5 started banging out the speakers, the couple’s lips snapped shut, and Jon set the car in motion. As he followed his GPS, he started silently praying that he had picked up the right people.

_ Else they’ll be in for a ride, _ he decided, noting that the address displayed was a while outside the city centre. In fact, it was so far away that by the time he’d battled the night’s peak time traffic, he’d spent a total of thirty minutes locked inside the vehicle with the two fuming in the backseat. At least, they had quieted, and by the time La Macarena started playing, Jon thought he even spotted a slight smile on the woman’s lips, her foot tapping along on the floor. He almost felt sorry to turn off the radio so he could ask: “Here’s okay?”

They were on a quiet, neat street, the estate on his left locked behind an iron gates. When he peeked up the darkened driveway, he could see the house in the distance - a large, modern block-build with exposed wood and glass and not much else.

“Anywhere to escape this fucking music,” the man sneered, pushing open the door. He didn’t wait for the woman to follow. Instead, he smacked the door closed, and Jon watched him walk around the car with long steps, punch the security code into the gate and disappear through the side entrance that opened.

The woman was watching him too, nothing about her face looking surprised. In fact, she merely sighed and offered Jon an apologetic smile. “He won’t give you a five star rating,” she informed him.

Jon couldn’t help but laugh. “I gathered,” he said and turned in his seat to look at her. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m great - that was one of our lesser arguments,” she said, and Jon felt sorry as he realised she was telling the truth. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a tenner. “Here,” she said, handing it toward him, but Jon shook his head.

“It’s okay.”

“No, really, he won’t tip you on the app. Take this at least.”

“Keep it and spend it on painkillers. Gods know you need it,” Jon spoke.

For a moment, she blinked, and he thought, _ I’ve gone too far. They’re a married couple. She doesn’t want a stranger trash-talking him. _ But then she laughed in shock:

“I guess you’re right!” and the note slipped back into her bag. She opened the door and stepped out but, before it closed, popped her head back in. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jon,” Jon spoke.

She smiled. “I’m Daenerys. Thanks for the ride, Jon.” She shut the door, and Jon watched her walk the same way as the guy had, punching a code into the gate and slipping inside before starting the long walk up the driveway, her steps in the tall boots unsteady.

* * *

The second time Jon picked up Daenerys, she was with a friend.

The women were laughing as they stumbled their way from the street to the car, each of them urging the other to get in first, their polite giggling audible to Jon. When Daenerys finally gave in and got in first, she slipped inside behind Jon, and her friend took the seat next to her, their bodies so close their knees were touching.

“Evening,” Jon spoke, and the woman chirped:

“Is it, or is it night?” In clothing she was akin Daenerys; black minidress barely covering the thighs, tall boots, and plenty of golden jewellery.

_ Dressed for a night out, _ Jon decided, although they already appeared to have started drinking. In the mirror, Jon noted that her cheeks were bright red, whilst Daenerys’ eyes seemed unfocused. As he caught her gaze in the mirror, her lips popped open in a surprised gasp.

“Jon!” she said, “I recognise you. You picked me up last week!”

Jon nodded politely. “I did,” he spoke.

“That’s the guy I told you about,” she said to her friend.

“Oh, the big dick one or the painkiller one?”

Daenerys flushed. “Painkiller, of course!” she said, her tone of voice suggesting that she knew nothing about any big dicks, although her shy gaze told Jon otherwise.

He hid a smirk as he started the car. “Off to party?” he asked, rolling down the street.

“Party and more,” the friend said, and she giggled something in Daenerys’ ear which made her shiver.

“This is Missandei,” Daenerys said, pointing to her friend. “She’s the best friend you could ever have.”

“And sexiest?” Missandei asked.

“And sexiest,” Daenerys agreed.

_ Just how much have they been drinking? _ Jon wondered, but it didn’t bother him. He definitely preferred two tipsy women to an arguing couple. “Where are we off to?” he asked, glancing at the GPS. The route laid out to him led him straight to the party centre of the city. He knew the place well - with so many clubs and bars and pubs crammed onto one street, there was always someone drunk looking for a ride home. In fact, as he started driving, people were already searching for pick-up.

“The Terrace,” Daenerys said, naming a high-end bar.

_ Doesn’t surprise me, _ Jon thought, remembering the house he dropped her off at. _ She must be stinking rich. _

At first, the women were speaking amongst themselves, their voices quiet. But as they grew less aware of him, their voices rose in volume, and soon he could follow their conversation:

“-just a total dick.” Daenerys fiddled with her phone as she was typing someone. “He fucks anything that walks, and still he’s keeping me on leash.”

“I told you from the beginning - a marriage meant to fail.”

“Well, that much was obvious.” Daenerys licked her lips before holding up the phone, snapping a photo of herself, then grimaced once she saw it. “Ugh, if he sees that, he’s going to think I’m drunk.”

“Girl, you _ are _ drunk.”

“I know, but I have to make him believe I’m not!”

Missandei clucked her tongue. “He’s too controlling, I’m telling you - soon, he’ll keep you locked in the house all day.”

“A perfect little housewife,” Daenerys sighed.

Jon cringed in his seat. _ Don’t say anything, _ he reminded himself, _ just stay out of it. _ It was lesson number one offered to him by a fellow driver: see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. Once you do anything, you intrude on your passenger’s privacy. They just see you as an automatic driver - no more, no less. Yet, as he caught Daenerys’ eyes in the mirror once more, he could’ve sworn he saw her wink.

“Here you are, ladies,” Jon said, stopping outside The Terrace; the marbled exterior of the building was made more luxurious by the golden windowpane framing the front. As the girls slipped out the car, Daenerys said:

“Thanks Jon, hope to see you again soon!”

_ Sure you do, _ Jon thought, though he noted the five star rating dropping in immediately. It made him smile for a moment - but only a moment, because the next ride he accepted consisted of two drunk lads on the verge of barfing.

* * *

_No way, _ Jon thought as Daenerys popped her head inside his car, smiling:

“Hello again!”

For once, it was daytime. The cool autumn sun shone high in the sky, and Jon was wearing shades not to be blinded. However, as Daenerys battled to squeeze in a handful of shopping bags on his backseat, he couldn’t help but take them off to watch in awe. All were brand-names (_Of course, _ he thought), all packed to perfection with ribbons and unnecessary coloured paper stuffed on top, giving the impression that each bag contained a luxury item. _ And I am sure they do, _ he thought, offering her a polite smile as she settled in the passenger seat.

“Ugh, that was _ hard_,” she gasped, shutting the door.

“I can pop it in the trunk for you,” Jon offered, but Daenerys shook her head.

She undid her ponytail, letting her silver locks fall freely around her shoulders. “No bother,” she said, “Drogo is meeting me at the other end. I’d like to watch him struggle.”

Jon smiled in surprise, but didn’t comment as he started the car and took off.

At first, they were quiet. Jon found himself struggling to come up with a topic. Normally, he only had someone sitting next to him if he was driving more than two people, and they all would entertain themselves. This time, however, with just Daenerys in his vehicle, he found himself obliged to chat.

“So,” he started, but as he paused, Daenerys took over:

“How long have you been driving for?”

Jon licked his lips. It was the typical polite question people would ask when talking to their driver. _ How long have you been driving for?_, and, _ Do you like driving?_, and, _ Tell me your craziest story! _ On the surface, all reasonable questions. But once asked a hundred times, it was hard to come up with anything but a monotone answer. So Jon duly replied:

“I have been driving for this company for two years.”

“And do you like it?”

Jon almost rolled his eyes. “Sure, it is nice being my own boss,” he replied rehearsed.

“Tell me - do you have any weird stories?”

He stopped at a red light and stared at her, his expression exasperated. But rather than finding her looking innocent, he noted she was smirking, and at his sighing she cracked up laughing. 

“I’m sorry!” she chuckled, “I couldn’t help myself! I just love how red you’re going!”

Jon glanced in the mirror and realised that his cheeks were indeed flushed, and he too smiled a little. “Well played, mrs.”

“Please, call me miss,” Daenerys said. As she caught Jon glancing at her hands, she spread her bare fingers. “I never wear my ring unless he’s about.”

“Your husband?” Jon queried.

“Yes, the brute you heard me argue with. I’m sure you remember.”

“Oh yes,” Jon said, pretending to only just recall the man’s face. “Mr Drogo.”

“Not much mister about him,” Daenerys huffed, but she didn’t clarify. Instead, she ran her fingers through her hair, glancing at the road ahead of them.

In her silence, Jon peeked at her from the corners of his eyes. He’d known the first night he saw her that she was good looking, but this close he could really appreciate her stunning features; the small, perky nose, the rounded face, the big eyes, the plump lips. He found himself licking his own and forcing his gaze away. _ She is gorgeous, _ he thought. _ She is totally fuckable. _

Daenerys pulled out her phone as she started texting someone. “Are you married?” she asked.

Jon shook his head until he realised she wasn’t looking at him. “No,” he replied. “I am not.”

“Seeing anyone?”

“Once in a while,” he replied with a shrug.

She smiled, her thumbs still tapping away at the screen. “I know that feeling,” she said.

_ She fucks around, _ Jon decided, and almost as if on cue Daenerys said:

“My husband is the same.” She shortly peeked at Jon before returning to her screen. “In case you thought I was unfaithful.”

“None of my business,” Jon assured her, although his curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of men Daenerys fucked. If he were to believe what Missandei said the other night, it could be down to dick size. _ Whatever it is, I am sure they are all rich, _ he thought, glancing in the mirror as he checked out her shopping bags. Chanel. Agent Provocateur. Louis Vuitton. Valentino. Jon had never set foot in any of those shops - he felt certain the owners were quite happy to keep things that way.

“I suppose,” Daenerys spoke, although her voice almost sounded sorry. She almost looked as if she wished for him to probe, but by the time he pulled his mind together, they had arrived.

Drogo stood waiting by the iron gate, his face as sour as the first night Jon met him. As he pulled up, the man didn’t offer him a look - he just pulled the backseat door open and groaned:

“I told you not to go overboard.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the car. “Yet you complain that I never dress nicely!”

“A nice dress doesn’t have to cost part of the family fortune,” Drogo insisted, his large hands grabbing at bags at random. Jon almost felt for him as he stumbled backwards, his arms wrapped around various bags brimming with clothes. But only _ almost _ \- the moment he remembered how he acted the first night, storming off without his wife, any feeling of pity vanished.

“Thanks, Jon!” Daenerys called as Drogo shut the door, grunting:

“Don’t speak to the driver!”

Jon just shook his head and took off. It wasn’t until he was halfway to his next pickup that he noticed the little bag still nestled on the floor by the backseats. He pulled to the side, reached behind to grab the discreet, white bag, and peeked inside with curiosity.

There, beneath a handful of flimsy paper, was a pair of black lace knickers. They were embroidered with navy roses, most of the fabric see through, but what got Jon’s cheeks boiling was the realisation that they had no bottom; instead, the fabric split into two, allowing easy access to whoever wore them.

Jon quickly stuffed the knickers away in the glove compartment, his heart beating quickly in his throat. _ I was not meant to see that, _ he assured himself. _ See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. _

* * *

But no one said anything about _ imagine nothing. _

The next time Jon picked up Daenerys, he struggled not to picture her wearing those bottomless knickers beneath her skirt. Especially as she walked straight to the passenger side door, seating herself next to him despite the backseat being perfectly empty. “Oh Jon,” she said, a smile on her lips, “fancy seeing you here.” And she patted his leg, making him squirm lightly.

_ Yes, fancy that, _ he thought, the blood in his crotch boiling.

It was early Saturday morning. The sun had just risen in the horizon, and most of the city was asleep. In fact, the streets were completely empty as Jon set off toward the destination - an abandoned factory quarter on the outskirts.

“Peculiar place,” Jon noted as he set the GPS.

“Oh yeah,” Daenerys spoke plainly, “it’s the best place for drugs, though.”

Jon snapped his eyes to her, only to find her smirking. “You’re kidding,” he said.

“Of course I am,” Daenerys replied, rolling her eyes. She settled back in the seat, fiddling with the edge of her skirt as it rode upward. “I’m looking to purchase the plot. My husband believes it could make a fine place for a hotel.”

“He works in that industry?”

“Any industry that makes cash is his industry.”

“He must be very clever,” Jon noted dryly.

Daenerys huffed. “Intimidation gets you far in this world,” she said, glancing out the window. Her eyes then slowly slipped back to him, and she said: “Do you ever intimidate anyone?”

“How do you think I landed this prestigious position?” Jon asked, making her smile.

“You’re a nice man, Jon,” she said, her hand patting her leg again. This time, however, she didn’t pull away, and Jon felt warm in his chest.

_ She’s just being friendly, _ Jon thought, but when her hand slipped a but further up his thigh, he wasn’t so certain. His mind was battling with sticking to his rule of no engagement, but, once again, Daenerys came to the rescue as she broke the silence herself:

“You must think I’m daft.”

Jon blinked. “Why should I think that?”

“Staying with a husband I don’t love, seeing people as I please - you must be wondering why I bother.”

_ It’s the money, _ Jon decided, thinking back to the estate. _ It’s always the money. _ “None of my business,” Jon assured her as he had before, but she pressed on:

“So you don’t think I’m some former sugar baby?”

Jon forced himself not to grimace. _ Yes, _ he thought, but he answered: “You tell me.”

“Well…” Daenerys let her fingertips dance up his leg, so close to his groin that Jon shifted in his seat. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to touch him or not. But he was sure that he was growing hard. “I have a brother. He has few talents, but he’s always imagined himself to be worth more. He thinks the world owes him a legacy.” She huffed at her own words, her eyes twinkling with humour. “Truth be told, he didn’t even have it in him to marry rich, so he arranged for me to take on that burden.”

“You’re in an arranged marriage?” Jon spoke surprised.

Daenerys shrugged. “In a sense. But I agreed. I was eighteen, Jon, and I wanted for my brother to be happy. What did I know.” She rested her head against the backrest, turning in her seat as she watched her fingers. They slipped across Jon’s groin, at first just a tickle against his jeans, so brief that Jon thought he could’ve imagined that it happened.

“Oh?”

“I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past nine years. I believe Drogo has learned a lot about himself, too.”

“I don’t wish to impose,” Jon said, feeling silly to even speak the words when Daenerys was the one offering her life story, hand on his crotch. Her palm was now brushing against his groin, as lightly as a breeze. But the pressure was just enough to make him groan. “But-”

“-but why don’t we just divorce?” Daenerys finished his question. She chuckled. “A rich man can always find some girl willing to love him. A poor woman, however, must keep her emotions at bay if she wishes to find her way in the world. It is true - I do not love him, and he knows this. But he offers me powers beyond what he knows.” Her hand cupped his dick through the jeans, and Jon gasped, now certain that she meant for him to feel her.

As he sped through the next red light, he begged that no cop was watching, his mind too focused on the pulsating feeling in his cock rather than where he was going. His GPS peeped up:

“Turn left” - but he turned right.

“He has connections. I have spent nine years building a network. I have gained people’s trust. I have gained people’s admiration. This is what angers him. He is realising that he is just a shell. He will be broken, but I will emerge unharmed.” Daenerys leaned over, her breath slippering across his ear as she whispered: “And I will take what I want.”

_ Oh God! _ Jon noted the flashing lights reflected in his mirror, and he swallowed as he forced the car to slow down. Still, Daenerys’ hand worked him through the jeans, up until the point when the cop walked up and knocked on his window.

As Jon rolled down the glass, her hand was no longer on his crotch, and he squeezed his knees together, hoping the bulge was not too visible. “Officer,” he greeted.

“Papers,” the man grunted. As Jon handed them over, he glanced at him. “Too busy chatting to keep your eyes on the road?” he asked.

_ Chatting is the least of my worries. _“Sorry, officer,” Jon just spoke, peeking at Daenerys. “I guess we were… occupied.”

“I’ll be right back,” the man spoke as he walked toward his car, calling someone on his radio. Jon heard his license plate being read out loud, and he groaned.

“I’m so getting a fine.”

“I’ll pay it,” Daenerys offered readily, “after all, I am partially at fault.”

Jon glared at her, his cheeks still red, and he said: “Just partially?”

She smiled a little and shrugged. “Okay, maybe fully.”

By the time the officer returned, Jon was no longer hard - in fact, he was feeling rather foolish as he sat nodding through a lecture on driving, followed by the promise of a bill in the post. “Keep your eyes on the road now,” the officer spoke at last, patting the top of his roof before heading back to his patrol car.

“Yes, officer,” Jon said, his eyes glaring at the floor before him.

Daenerys wriggled into her seat. “Well, that went okay.”

“That was _ so _ embarrassing,” Jon mumbled, hiding his face behind his hands.

Daenerys watched him for a while. Then, she spoke: “I’m sorry.” Her voice actually sounded honest, so Jon peeked between his fingers toward her.

_ She’s sorry, _ he realised, seeing the glimmer in her eyes. _ She never meant to cause me trouble. _ At this, he sighed and lowered his hands: “I know. It’s just-”

“Let me make it up to you.”

Before Jon knew what was happening, Daenerys unzipped his jeans and tugged out his cock. With her soft fingers wrapped around his girth, he quickly started growing hard again, more so when she leaned down and licked around his cockhead.

“Oh God,” he whispered and scooted back in his seat, glancing down at her in shock. For a moment, all he could do was think of his mantra: see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. But the words had not prepared him for this situation in which seeing, hearing and saying nothing meant letting the situation unfold.

As he was at a loss of what to do, Daenerys continued her task: she licked his head, suckled on his soft foreskin, and then sunk him into her mouth, her tight lips closing around his girth. Jon could do nothing but moan as her small, wet tongue darted around his dick.

_ She is a married woman, _ Jon reminded himself, hoping to clear his mind, but instead it seemed to excite him - at least his cock throbbed lively between Daenerys’ lips, and she chuckled, sending vibrations through his length.

As the police car passed them by, Jon curled his toes and thanked the Gods that the officer didn’t look their way once more, or he would’ve seen this:

Jon, his black locks messy, squirming back into his seat as Daenerys silver lock spilled across his lap, her wet lips hungrily devouring his fat cock, her tongue hungrily taking him into her mouth. His hands were in her hair, his hips were jerking upwards, his back was arched. And he knew he should protest and push her away. He knew he should behave like a driver, treating his passenger as a guest not a potential fuck.

But when she gagged around him, the small of her mouth struggling to take him in further, all he could do was groan and come.

As he spilled his cum into her mouth, he found her hum in surprise, but her lips did not let go of him. Instead, she swallowed, her fingers gently massaging his legs as he shivered until the last of his sperm slipped out of his cock. Then, once she was sure he had finished, she let him pop free of her lips, tucked him back inside, and zipped him up.

As she returned to her side of the seat, licking her lips, she looked at him with indifference and asked: “How much farther to my destination?”

* * *

The next time Jon picked up Daenerys, he was prepared. As she closed the iron gate behind her, walked to the passenger side and opened the door, he parted his lips, ready to speak, but she interrupted him before he could take a breath:

“I am _ so angry_!”

Jon was baffled as she slammed the door shut, did up her seatbelt, and leaned back, arms crossed. Perhaps it was her attitude that vexed him, perhaps the fact that she was dressed for a joyous occasion rather than a sour one:

She was wearing a short, red dress, the neckline so low that her cleavage was nicely exposed. On her feet, she wore small golden, high heels, the glimmer in them shimmering in the sparse light from the outside streetlamp. Jon glanced from her toes to her face, and he felt all his questions seep away as they were replaced with:

“What happened?”

Daenerys glanced past him up the driveway, her eye seeking the estate. “Please start driving,” she asked, and Jon complied. As he rolled downhill, her gaze finally broke with the gate, and her arms slipped from the crossed position to have her hands rest in her lap. “He’s not going.”

“Who?”

Daenerys shook her head. “My husband. Drogo. He was meant to go with me to this charity dinner, but he’s decided to stay home. He’s got some teenager lounging in his office, I am sure. She’s more important than walking the red carpet with me.” She glanced out the window, and Jon could tell in the reflection of the glass that her eyes were more angry than upset.

Jon wrecked his brain, trying to come up with the right words to speak, but he found only questions. “Do you really mind?” he asked, “After all, you don’t seem to like him much.”

“The whole idea of staying married is to preserve our image,” Daenerys said. She shrugged as she continued: “If he’s not willing to go to these events with me, then what good is he? Now, the press is just going to speculate what’s happening.”

“The press? You’re that important?” Jon said surprised. “Why the hell am I driving you, then?”

“Oh Jon.” Daenerys turned to look at him with pitiful eyes. He felt almost like a stupid kid under her kind glance. “Image preservation. Imagine - rich couple ditches private limo, only uses app to hail cars? It’s going to look like we’re in touch.”

“Whilst remaining above us,” Jon spoke bitterly. As they reached a red light, he stopped, his eyes glaring at the road ahead.

“Jon,” Daenerys said, “it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he asked. He glanced toward her, but only shortly. “Was that why you sucked me off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was that a kind of poverty charity?” he asked.

Daenerys wrinkled her nose. “Don’t take me for a whore,” she said, her voice stern. “I fuck who I want to fuck, no more, no less.”

“Is that so?” Jon asked, revving the engine as the light turned yellow. As soon as the green came on, he sped through the intersection, the speed making Daenerys gasp in surprise. As she settled back in her seat, she looked at him in shock.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

_ You have, _ Jon thought. _ I have thought of nothing and no one else since that day. _ It was the truth; if his imagination had gone wild at the sight of her panties, it certainly had its fill since she blew him. “At times,” Jon spoke, finding himself blush a little at the words, but feeling a need to get them out. He sighed. “At times, I’ve taken a break-”

“Yes?” Daenerys urged him on, still looking on with perplexion.

“To satisfy myself,” he said, choosing his words with care. “After that day. When I got pulled over.”

At first, she blinked, seemingly not putting the pieces together. But then a wry smile spread across her lips. “Is that so?”

“But to imagine you did that out of pity-”

“Jon,” she interrupted him, and she waited for him to glance at her before saying: “Pull over.”

Jon dutifully pulled over. He parked his car on the curb of a darkened street, but as he turned off the engine, he still didn’t turn to look at her. He just sat still, quietly watching the road.

“I don’t fuck out of pity,” Daenerys said. “I fuck out of lust.” Still, Jon didn’t move, and she sighed: “Jon, I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. I don’t care who you are or what you are or how much you earn - I just think you’re hot. That’s why I did it.”

Jon slowly glanced over at her. She was sitting facing him, the strap of her dress slipping down her shoulder, her violet eyes brimming with honesty. And he realised that he could not keep up his sour attitude, because something in him stirred - something animalistic.

Before he could stop himself, she said: “Get in the back.”

Daenerys blinked. “What?”

“Get in the back,” Jon repeated, pointing back at the backseat.

Daenerys licked her lips and narrowed her eyes, clearly trying to read his mind, but, finding no clue in his grey eyes, slowly undid her seatbelt and crawled around to the backseat. As she was settled, perfectly proper on the passenger side, Jon undid his own belt and followed.

The car was dark. The only light falling in was from the house a bit up the road, and the full moon hanging high in the sky. He had to feel his way across the leather, his hands bumping to her warm thighs as he settled next to her.

“Jon-” she spoke, her breath hitting his neck.

“I want to fuck you,” Jon said.

He heard her gasp, and her hands closed around his shirt. She tugged at it. “Say that again,” she urged.

Jon complied - he leaned in over her, his lips hovering hers, and his hands digging into the soft of her thighs, as he whispered: “I am _ going to _ fuck you.”

She kissed him. Her plump lips were soft and wet against his own, and he welcomed her tongue, dragging her closer to him as their kiss deepened. She smelled of expensive perfume, the dress between his hands slippered like luxurious silk, and when his hand brushed across hers, he felt the cold of her wedding ring still sat there.

He broke the kiss in surprise, glancing down at it, and she explained: “I thought he was going to come. I can remove it.”

“No,” Jon spoke, before he could stop himself. He pushed her fingers away from the ring, his own intertwining with hers as he pushed her back onto the seat. As she dropped to lie down, her fleshy thighs closed around his waist, and he leaned down to kiss her ear as he whispered: “I want to fuck you as you are - a married woman.”

Daenerys squirmed beneath him, and her free hand dragged through his hair. “You’re a dirty man, Jon,” she whispered, her voice warm, and Jon chuckled:

“Not as dirty as the knickers you left behind.” As he kissed his way down to her cleavage, his hands slipping to feel her breasts, she gasped:

“You were the one who took them!”

“You left them behind,” Jon clarified, his head sinking lower. He pushed her dress up, letting the fabric fold at her waist, as he dipped his face between her legs. To his surprise, he found her wearing the exact same pair of panties - black, with roses embroidered, and no crotch. Her soft, wet lips were exposed to him as he pushed her legs apart, and she laughed softly, her hands seeking his hair.

“I had to get another pair,” she said, looking down at him. “How do they look on me?”

Jon licked his lips. “Perfect,” he spoke, then pushed his head in to kiss her.

Daenerys was warm and wet; as Jon licked his way between her lips, they spread for him, allowing him to taste her more deeply. He greedily kissed his way around her sex, tasting her juices as they started flowing. His tongue sought her nub, rubbing flatly against it until her fingers tucked harshly at his hair, urging him back down across her sex.

“Oh Jon,” she gasped, her voice filled with lust, “you make me so needy.”

Jon pushed himself nose-deep into her sex as he prodded his tongue at her inners, and she moaned as he started licking her soft entrance, his mouth greedy for more. His hands grabbed a hold of her thighs as he pleased her and, as a car drove by, its light shortly illuminating the scene before him, he glanced up to take in the scene:

Daenerys, wealthy married woman, her legs locked at his face as she rocked herself to his tongue, her own lips parted in moans of pleasure, her eyes tightly shut.

His cock stirred, and he pushed himself back onto his knees, causing her to beg him back. “Please,” she said, “don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Jon promised, reaching between his legs as he undid his zipper and pulled his cock free of his briefs. He was as hard as he’d been when she sucked him off; his cockhead was pulsating, and his member stiff, ready to take her. He grabbed at her left leg, leading it up onto his shoulder as he settled at her sex, cock in hand, leading himself into her wet cunt.

As he started pushing into her tight opening, she moaned and arched her back. Her hands slipped across the seat, searching for something to hold onto. One of her hand took a hold of the seatbelt, the belt tightening at her pulling, whilst the other dangled by the floor, gripping at air. “Oh God,” she whispered, and Jon felt his heart skip a beat at her frail moaning.

_ Fuck, _ he thought as he pushed himself in over her, his cock seeking deeply into her wet inners. _ She is so sexy. _ Truly, she looked stunning spread out before him, her sex exposed to him, her dress falling down her shoulders, her breasts bouncing lightly as he pulled her closer. As she was dragged onto his hard cock, they both moaned, and her legs tightened around him, keeping him in place.

“You fill me up so good,” she whispered, her eyes seeking his.

Jon sucked in air at her words, and he lightly rocked into her, causing her to moan. “Is this what you’ve been wanting all this time?” he asked, his own voice gruff.

Daenerys smiled and closed her eyes as she nodded. “I’ve been wondering how you fuck.”

“And how do I fuck?” he asked.

The smile on her lips grew as she spoke: “Like you’re holding back.” She blinked, staring up at him as she reached out, grabbed a hold of his head, and dragged him back down to her lips. As she kissed him, she urged: “You can fuck me harder, Jon. Make me feel good. Make me feel _ dirty._”

Jon groaned into her mouth, and he grabbed a hold of her waist as he slowly dragged himself out of her, then pushed back into her wet cunt with a shove, causing the car to rock slightly. At first, he was worried he was going to hard, but she hissed:

“Yes, like that!” - and he complied. He took a good hold of her body, keeping her body tight with the seat, and started fucking her with rough, quick pushes. His throbbing length stroked across her nub every time he shoved himself in, and it teased it ever so nicely when he pulled out, causing her to wriggle in pleasure.

She was tight, wet, and willing around his cock, and sweat started to build across Jon’s body. Beneath his shirt and thick jeans, he felt it drip, but he could not stop himself now. As the leather groaned, and the car rocked, and the passing by vehicles slowed down, their lights lighting them up for a second longer than necessary, Jon felt all in him ache for more. So he fucked her, hard and deep, and she gasped and thrashed beneath him, pushing herself up to let him in further.

It was then that he came. Before he knew it, he spilled his seed deep in her cunt, and she whined beneath him, her hands reaching down to rub herself to an orgasm in the same. As she came, her inners tightened around him one last time, causing him to groan. His legs felt weak, and he could do nothing but sink down atop her, his face resting at her neck as he drew in air.

At first, neither of them moved. Then, she slowly started dragging her fingers through his hair. “Oh dear,” she whispered, and Jon laughed at her tone of voice.

“Oh dear?” he repeated.

“I still have a dinner to attend,” she said, breathless.

As Jon lifted himself up to rest on all fours, his eyes roamed her body - the messy dress, the smudged lipstick, the unruly hair - and he said: “Good - you look just fine.”

* * *

Sunday morning. The sun had not yet risen. Still, Jon was in his car, waiting patiently on the dark road. His window had been rolled down slightly, just enough for him to listen, and he perked when he heard an iron gate slam shut.

“Morning,” he said before the passenger side opened, and Daenerys slipped inside.

She seated herself next to him, her lips in a perfect smile as she spoke: “Good morning, Jon.”

“Mrs, is it?”

“Miss, please. Miss Targaryen.”

“Miss Targaryen - where are we off to?”

“Well, Jon,” she said, smacking her lips as she tugged at her skirt. The black fabric rode up, just far enough for him to see that she wasn’t wearing any knickers. “Do you know somewhere private?”

Jon licked his lips and nodded, typing in the street on his GPS. “I do, miss, I do.”

And for the fifth time that month, Jon found himself driving them off to the outskirts of the city, his destination set for an abandoned street, and he thought, _ This is going to be fun. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the artwork! It inspired a scene in this story. Care to guess which? (I know - obvious, right!). Hope you enjoyed this. 3 more to go!


End file.
